Say Goodbye As We Dance With The Devil Tonight
by 4N6chica
Summary: Kalea was always the girl who loved to have fun with her friends. But after she moves to Gotham that all changes and her fate seems to be unchangable. JokerxOC
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I stared pathetically at the package of sour straws in my hands. I had been munching on them throughout the game. It was a Friday night foot ball game. I was sitting by myself on the last cold metal bench of the bleachers. Just me, myself, and I (and my sour straws).

I pulled out another straw of delicious sour-ness while rolling my eyes at my classmates that were a few rows up. I could hear their obliviously loud whispers

"Who's the loner?" the newest clone, Mackenzie, asked her 'friends' while motioning towards me.

I frowned at her and attempted to push their voices out of my hearing by concentrating on eating the sour straw.

"That's Kalea, she moved here a couple months ago," said Brittany, the queen bee of Rutherford High.

Brittany and her groupies (i.e. Mackenzie and the others) were all clones. They had the bleach blonde died hair and the perfect nose job that Michael Jackson would've killed for.

Finally, Brittany caught my glare. She returned her own right back at me before standing up and walking away, her 'friends' following closely.

I flipped my black side bangs away from my icy blue eyes with a sigh. Sometimes I asked myself why I even subject myself to this. And then I remember. My parents think that I have friends and that I moved from our old town of Philadelphia easily. I moved to Gotham, how could I have managed that 'easily'. I didn't make any friends either. But, I didn't want my parents to worry. So I put on an act that I had friends that I would meet at the mall and at high school foot ball games. When I ended up going places where I was 'going to meet friends' I usually wandered around or just sat and did nothing. Any way it was boring.

I stared out at the score board as it buzzed the final buzz. We won. Yeah. Please, note the sarcasm coating my voice. I stood quickly and pulled my hoodie's sleeves over my fists. My hands curled around my car keys, anxious to get out of the crowd of people. I used to love doing this kind of thing back in Phili with my friends. Getting into trouble equaled having fun. And now having fun equals, well I don't know exactly. I guess I just don't have fun all together.

Crossing the road, I finally reached my car. It was a minivan. It was ugly as heck. But, I loved it with a burning passion. I worked so hard to earn this car.

I got into my beloved car and put the keys the ignition sending it to life. As soon as I did Dragostea Din Tei by O-Zone filled my ears. I sang along with the Romanian lyrics.

"Alo, alo, sunt eu Picasso. Ti-am dat beep, si sunt voinic. Dar sa stii nu-ti cer nimic."

A couple songs later I was home.

I killed the engine and hopped out of the van. I unlocked the door and walked in while humming Somebody Told Me by The Killers. My parents were most likely already asleep. So I tip-toed up the steps and passed their room. My mum had her eyes wide awake. She looked at me and I gave her a nod before she smiled at me and closed her eyes. I walked to my room around the bend. When I opened the door I was greeted with my familiar space.

I quickly changed into a baggy t-shirt before sliding into my bed.

The annoying buzz of an alarm clock awoke me the next morning. My hand reached over lazily and slapped the snooze button. I sat up and stretched my arms up and out while yawning. I had another boring day to look forward to, how exciting.

My shoulders rolled back and forth while I looked through my wardrobe. I finally settled on black skinny jeans, a black & white long button down form fitting shirt, and white pumps. I slipped on the pumps which made me 5'9". I walked out of my room and down the stairs. When I reached the dining room I saw my father sitting there reading the paper and drinking his coffee. His salt & pepper hair was neatly combed and he was wearing his usual business clothes.

He and I were usually the first two up, even on a Saturday such as this one. We exchanged a small smile and nod of recognition before returning to what we were doing. This was the way things were. A comfortable silence. It was always like this with me and my father. Unlike my mother, we both preferred silence while enjoying the others company. You buttered a bagel and ate it while staring at the wall in boredom.

The relaxing silence was broken when her mother walked down the steps. Her brown curly hair was sticking out in every direction. She had her silly cow bathrobe on and matching slippers. My mother was eccentric to say the least. But she was still very nice to have around when there was any random awkward silences. She's a people person unlike her husband and daughter.

"Good morning, sunshine," I stated to my half asleep mother.

My mom rolled her eyes at this as she poured her coffee.

"Are you going to the mall with Angela?"

Yup, my imaginary friends had names. And personalities and appearances that my mother asked for when I first 'made friends'.

"Yeah, around 12. We're going to get lunch there."

Well, I was going to get lunch there. I bet there's some girl named Angela who was going to get lunch at some mall, so I wasn't technically lying.

Later on, around 11:30, I left my house and got into my minivan. When I turned the started the ignition the song "Dear Jamie... Sincerely Me" came out of my speakers. My mine van reached the mall and I parked towards the back. My tall white pumps hit the asphalt and I slammed the door to my minivan. My long legs carried me to the entrance of the shopping center. I immediately walked into FYE and browsed the posters. I found one of The Beatles in a blue, green, and white pop art type of style. Deciding that it fit my room, I bought it.

After that, I just roamed the mall randomly. Around 2 pm I got a soft pretzel and cheese. I parked myself towards the end of the mall where there were open couches. No one was sitting on this side of the mall. So sitting there eating my cheese pretzel, by myself, is when my life suddenly took a new course. Whether for the better or for the worse, I was still unsure.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

There was a loud explosion heard behind me. The shock of the loud sound knocked the container in my hand thrown across the area. Cheese splattered onto the cold tile floor, along with my half-eaten pretzel. I turned swiftly, my dark bangs falling in my dark blue eyes. There was a gaping whole in the pale cement wall leading from the jewelry store. Debris was strewn across the floor. I was just happy that only a few pieces of the material blew into my hair, and not the humungous pieces of rubble that were scattered about. Questions burst about my head as I coughed due to the smoke. _What could have done that?_ Or more likely, _**Who**__ could have done that?_

My questions were answered when I saw a girl with a giant smile on her face standing where the wall used to be. She was wearing a skin tight _thing_; it was half red and half black. A big dangerous-looking gun was in her hands. My eyes drifted upward and laid upon the man towering behind her. Any rational citizen of Gotham knew his face like the back of there hand. The curly dirty blonde hair with the green tint all the way to his distinct makeup. The chalk white face, blood red lips, and black rimmed eyes were unmistakable. The Joker. His face struck fear in the souls of those who saw him. I froze when his eyes penetrated mine. Out of fear or shock, I don't know. Out of no where, a laugh was sounded. It was of the booming kind that bounced off the walls. It was jovial, but it was creepy at the same time. A shiver ran down my spine.

My eyes quickly broke his gaze and let them lock on the knife he was fingering. My blood ran cold in that moment.

What seemed like decades later, though it was probably only minutes, the inferior range of motion was broken. Up untill that point no one moved. Trust The Joker to break it. Unbeknownst to me, later, he would do the same with my sanity.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

My eyes were concentrated on the pretzel on the floor. I was going for the 'If-I-Don't-Acknowledge-Them-They'll-Go-Away' tactic. I didn't think that it would work, but I had nothing to lose seeing as my legs weren't reacting to the idea of running. A pair of men's dress shoes came into my field of vision. I could've sworn my heart stopped beating on the spot. A purple gloved hand soon followed after, it reached down and picked up my half eaten soft pretzel. My eyes followed the hand like an obedient dog. The Joker brought the pretzel to his mouth and took a bite. He obnoxiously spoke while chewing.

"Do you like seafood, doll face?" His booming voice sounded.

I knew where this was going, but I decided it best to play along. I nodded my head silently, not being able to find my voice for the moment.

He chuckled throatily before leaning down to my level. I turned my head left to look at another place, any other place but his face would be wonderful. I felt a cold metal pressed against my left cheek. The blade of a knife. He used the instrument to tilt my head to face him. He opened his mouth wide, showing yellow teeth and the mashed up pretzel that I _used _to enjoy.

"See, food," he said loudly while laughing.

I cringed inwardly. Not only from the corny-ness of the joke, but from the idea that a mass murderer is so close to me with the blade of his knife on me. I realized there was a good chance that I won't be able to walk away from this alive.

"Aw, you didn't find that funny?" he pondered with mock sadness.

My eyes grew wide as I saw his smile grow bigger. I could guess that thaw wasn't a good sign. Hell, anything that involves the Joker isn't a good sign.

"Why so serious?"

I made my expression hard and stone-like. I decided that if I didn't give him the reaction he wanted, he would get bored and leave. However, I didn't expect the exact opposite to occur. Unknown to myself, he became more intrigued with the fact that someone was attempting to ignore him.

The cold blade was removed from my cheek and The Joker returned to his fullest height. I fought back my sigh of relief and kept my rejoicing inside my mind. But instead of him walking away, as I'd imagined, he giggled. In pure shock my eye gazed upward at the man's face. He licked his lips in a snake-like manner before speaking.

"You're going to be a fun toy, doll face. You're coming with us."

He commanding voice sounded my death sentence. His words were coated with joy. Without another word he grabbed my arm roughly, pulling me into a standing position. Out of fear, my legs gave out. He caught me by my elbow, a wave of pain rushing through it immediately. He hoisted me up and slung me 

over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The last thing I remember was being thrown into the back of a white van and my head surging with pain as it slammed against the window.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When my senses returned to my body it was in extreme pain. My whole body was like one single pain. There was no area that hurt more than another. It was jut one pain, several pains blended together perhaps. I was fearful of opening my eyes. Afraid of what I would see, the reality of my problem. I felt that I was laying on a stiff surface. Like a table, only with bedding. I wondered what was happening and then my memories came pouring into my mind like a flash flood. I inwardly cringed as I remembered my current problem. I had been kidnapped. And not just by anyone, by The Joker. The mass-murderer. The lunatic who pulled Houdini's like nobody's business.

That's when I felt my hand levitate. Someone picked it up. A fresh wave of pain came suddenly while I felt its motion being restricted. I hissed in response. My act of being passed out was now over. A happy giggle was sounded and echoed throughout the room. I decided that it would be wise to open my eyes and stay on guard. When they opened a bright light was shining into my eyes. I let an annoyed groan slide through my lips. Everything was blurry for a second and then my eyes adjusted to the sudden exposure of light. Standing on my left was the Joker. He said through his nasally voice, "Good morning sunshine!" Even though his words were harmless enough, his voice added a sinister spin to it. As if the words held some double meaning.

I let my eyes study him. His mouth was stretched forever into a glass-glow smile. His brown eyes were trained though, his brow furrowed. That's when I realized what he was concentrating on. His purple coat was off leaving him in his waist coat and dress shirt. His blue snake skin shirt was rolled to his elbows, revealing pale, muscular arms. He was tightly wrapping my hands in white bandages. That explained the numbing pain that soared through my arms. I cringed due to the pain. The Joker took notice of this. "Aw... did the dolly get a boo boo?" he asked in an eerily chiding voice.

I made no move to answer. There was no doubt in my mind that he caused this and did something to my hands. What he did, I have no clue and am afraid to find out. I kept my eyes concerted on the white cement ceiling, paint from long ago was chipping. I was knocked abruptly out of my analysis by his hand jerking my head to face him. His hand was gripping my throat and the other was digging my cheek with the dull side of his knife. I felt his grip tighten on my throat, slowly cutting off my supply of oxygen. I refused to react though, to give him the sick gratification he desired. "You wanna know how I got these scars?" I've heard all the numerous stories that he tells, I wondered which one he would tell me. Still, I had no intention of answering him. I looked at him blankly and blinked.

He sighed in exasperation which made me have to fight back a smirk. "Ya know doll face, I want the world to smile. And it pisses me off when they don't. So unless you want your face carved like a Jack-O-Lantern, you're going to smile and talk. Got it?"

Ok, now this is where I draw the line for my stubbornness. I instantly forced a fake smile onto my face when I heard his threat. "Got it," I said in my naturally quiet voice. I figured I was most likely going to die at this man's hands. I had an idea that if I put him in a better mood perhaps my chance of survival would go up from 3 to 4 perhaps.

"Good girl," he said through giggles. He slapped my cheek twice. He did it the same way you would throw a good dog a treat. His slap was hard enough for me to notice, but not hard enough to leave a stinging cheek.

His expression suddenly switched and the knife digged harder into my cheekbone. "You wanna know how I got these scars?" he asked again, as if the previous conversation had never occurred. "Not really," I stated bluntly. I knew the Jokers would just give me one of his bullshit stories anyway. He giggled at my answer, "Aw, doesn't my dolly like to play?"

A chill ran down my spine at the seemingly childish words. "What would be the point? I know you just spew bullshit lies. So just save your breath," I stated harshly. His expression darkened for a moment like he was debating about beating the shit outta me but then livened back up, I swear this guy's bipolar. I made a mental note to check his eyes for emotion changes from now on.

"Ooh, feisty—you're lucky I like it," he laughed. But this time it was a throaty chuckle, not a childish giggle.

I made no response. The malicious look in his eyes greatly contradicted the permanent smile.

"Ya know doll face, I like games. So let's play one."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

My chest constricted. A game with The Joker didn't sound fun in the slightest. He giggled in pure bliss as he explained. It amazed me that a laugh could sound as horrible, maybe even worse, than a scream when it came from his mouth.

"Well ya see doll face, we're gunna play a game. Kinda like hang-man," his clicked and then quickly licked his lip. That quirky little tic of his was beginning to drive her insane.

I cocked an eyebrow at this, 'hangman?'

"And you'll get to be the hang-man! Except a hang-wo-man in a skirt," he said while pronouncing each and every syllable. His captivating eyes drifted to my exposed calves and I practically growled in protest.

He heard the noise and smiled at me with that nauseating look on his face, "What's wrong? You don't like games? Well then, I guess I'll just hit the punch line then."

A look of pure delight dawned on his features. I instantly regretted my dim-witted stubborn self. I just had to get myself into this position didn't I?

He smirked and yanked my shirt sleeve up. His hazel eyes burrowed into mine, "Scream as loud as you like." Before I even had a chance to inhale or even ponder why, he carved his knife into the skin of my inner forearm.

I couldn't bite back the shout that bubbled to my lips. A blood curdling scream burst from my throat.

Pain fled through my body like wildfire. The knife's blade started moving. Instantly I knew that he didn't stab me for the sake of pain. This had a meaning.

The pain ripped at me and the dagger exited my body. Relief washed over me and I took a sharp intake of air. My arm felt like it was on fire. His nasally voice sounded, "Don't get too comfy." His knife slit into my skin again, this time it wasn't as violent. The look on his scarred face reminded me of an artist working on his masterpiece. 'The sick—'I swore in my head. He pulled the knife out of my flesh. I bit my lip, preventing the fresh wave of pain from being sounded. He smiled at the blood that caked the blade of his knife. And then he did the most revolting thing I've ever seen with my own two eyes. He licked the blood clean off the metal. My blood was now in his system.

My face must've portrayed my horror because with just glance at my face, he chuckled. His chuckle was throaty which threw me for a loop. He had mostly giggled up until that point. He smiled down at me with malice while he stood to his full height. This, I might add, was very intimidating. He stood at around 6'2". He was also as thin as a twig. But I wouldn't let looks deceive my mind. I knew that he was as sturdy as an ox and could easily overpower me.

The Joker walked away, left me in my pain. My eye lids blinded me and I worked on keeping my breathing even. But soon enough I heard footsteps approaching. I kept my eyes shut tight and used my sense of touch and scent to tell me what was going on. My arm was seized and restrained by a gloved hand. Then a cotton swab coated with stinging liquid ran over my wound. The strong burning familiar scent of rubbing alcohol filled my nostrils. The act startled me; I wanted to know why he was cleaning my injury. Wouldn't he have liked it if I got MRSA or something? None the less, it stung like hell. I hissed in reply to his actions.

"Aw, sh, sh, shh..." he cooed in his eerie voice which made a shiver run down my spine.

I shuddered at the pain which produced a noise.

"I said to shut the hell up!" his coarse voice suddenly shouted.

My eyes opened only to see his fist coming for my head. His knuckles connected with my cranium. My eyes closed and I slipped into unconsciousness, which accepted me with open arms. At least something will.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

When I awoke, it was to the sound of a steady heart monitor. The air smelled of cleaning supplies and white. Ok—maybe white isn't a smell. But if it was, it would smell like a hospital.

My eyes blinked open and found that my suspicions were correct. I was lying in a hospital bed. My hands were numb and covered by bandages. My head was throbbing and my arm hurt badly.

"What happened?" I thought out loud.

The last thing I remembered was being on The Joker's operating table, like a frog about to be dissected.

I was knocked out of my thoughts by a figure coming into the room. It was a nurse.

The woman looked over at me and her eyes widened. I wanted to laugh; she looked like a fish out of water. The woman ran back out of the room, yelling for the doctor.

A few minutes later a doctor briskly walked into the room. He looked about 30 with dark brown hair, a white smile, and healthy skin.

"Hello Ms. Knudsen," he said through a suave voice, "Do you know why you're here?"

I nodded and being the smart ass I was, didn't answer in words. I could tell just by hearing this doctor's voice and seeing his appearance, I didn't like him one bit.

He looked a tad disgruntled but instantly recovered and put back on his nice guy face, "Care to tell me?"

I raised an eyebrow, "Why should I?"

After a little more bickering between myself and the doctor, I finally told him why when I felt that I had disgruntled him enough to ruin his façade.

After the man had jotted down some notes on his clipboard I asked, "What did you find on my hands?"

It turns out that The Joker had stuck my hands in acid, removing my fingerprints. I don't understand why he did this.

"Lovely," I muttered, "When can I go home?"

The doctor told me in his stiff voice, "I have no problem with you removing your rude self from my hospital right this moment," he looked down his nose at me.

I huffed, "Fine," I stood from the hospital bed, ripping out the IV from my arm, and marched out of the room. Not caring that I was only wearing my hospital gown, Hello Kitty boy shorts visible through the back slit.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

A few days later I found myself in my home, although it wasn't much better than the hospital. As soon as my mother saw my hands, wrist, and black eye; she'd start sobbing. My dad pretended to be strong about it all, but the cringe on his façade could be spotted when he saw me. Conversations were usually awkward considering that they didn't know what to talk about with me. I felt like a leper in my own house.

In turn, I kept the carved "J" on my right wrist covered at all times, whether by arm socks or with long sleeves. It kind of sucked when it got warm, but I dealt with it. Until the bruise faded, I had to spend a half hour longer than usual to mask my black eye. My hands had healed quickly and soon enough they no longer hurt like the dickens 24/7. The only difference from before was that I no longer had finger prints or hand prints on them.

When I was all healed up, my father thought it best that I go back to school and pretend like nothing ever happened. But, he had no idea how impossible that would be. Almost every person in the city had heard of the Joker taking me hostage. The story had been covered on the news; which was always funny to watch. The women in business suits armed with microphones headed to the high school to interview some "friends" of mine. To my amusement, they ended up interviewing Brittany, the queen bee bitch who loathes my existence.

"Investigators are pouring over the crime scene at the "Gallery Jewels" jewelry store after a heist last week staged by The Joker and Harley Quinn. The cash register was wiped clean, but that's not the only thing he took. Kalea Knudsen, an unsuspecting teen in the Civic Mall lobby, was kidnapped by the perpetrator. Amazingly though, she got out alive. We're at Gotham High School this morning to interview a friend of Kalea's about the crime.

Brittany, we understand how hard this must be for all of Kalea's loved ones; so we appreciate you speaking with us about this."

"Oh—it's no problem Cynthia," Brittany responded, but she was staring past Cynthia Brown and straight into the camera. She did a little hair flip and flirted with the camera while spewing garbage about "her best girlfriend, Kayla."

It was at that point that Cynthia bluntly turned the interview over to Ken in the newsroom. Ms. Brown must've caught the sudden name change herself.

I smiled to myself, Brittany could always manage to make herself look like the true imbecile she is. Her fifteen minutes of fame was cut ten minutes short by her own doing. Score.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Kalea! Kalea! Wake up, sweetie! You're just having a bad dream!"

My eyes sprung upon as soon as my mother touched my arm. My throat just ached as I gasped out for breath. Cold sweat coated my face as I looked up at her.

"Sorry," my straining voice whispered, "I'm okay."

Plastering on a fake smile to reassure her that I was speaking the truth, I shifted about under my covers.

"Alright... you still have some time to sleep, okay? I'll call you in late if you want to sleep in though."

She reluctantly smiled at me before walking out of the room and gently closing the door behind her.

Out of the darkness shone my alarm clock on the bedside table. 5:07am. I still had a little over an hour to sleep, but I just couldn't close my eyes for longer than a standard blink. Every time I did, I could just see _his_ face glowering at me. A shiver shook my body that no amount of covers could cease.

It had been a little over a month since my play date with The Joker, but still none of what happened made sense to me.

I couldn't quite remember how I had ended up at that hospital. Who saved me? Who could've known where I was? Who could've escaped with me from The Joker's hideout?

I didn't understand why The Joker had burned off my handprints. He didn't do that for no reason, right? Or, was he just trying to toy with me?

Ugh, _toy_. I hated how The Joker could make the children's phrases turn into this evil thing in my mind. I'm never going to be able to look at the game hangman the same. Speaking of which, why did he engrave me with a J?

But then there was most important question bouncing against the walls of my brain...

Why didn't he kill me when he had the chance?

The intro to Frou Frou's Holding Out for a Hero knocked me out of my thoughts. Reaching over, I slammed my alarm clock. I already knew today was going to suck more than usual, so I just decided it'd be best to get the first day done and over with.

I got out of bed and made my way over to my closet. I pulled out a pair of white ballet flats, dark wash skinny jeans, a white camisole, and a long grey knit sweater. Looking in the mirror, I pulled my black locks into a neat ballerina bun. While my arms were stretched, my sleeve slid back to expose my scar. It always upset me to see it. But at least it wasn't a lightening bolt on my forehead, right?


End file.
